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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26826334">Closed Doors</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riza_A/pseuds/Riza_A'>Riza_A</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Dubious Consent, F/M, Madara's hair is hella inspired by Alucard (hellsing) in this fic, Madara's hair should be its own character really, Really just an excuse for PWP, because demons, demon madara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:55:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,271</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26826334</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riza_A/pseuds/Riza_A</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn’t know what the right decision is. But she knows she isn’t going to die in this basement, alone and in pain.</p><p>“Alright,” she says. “Tell me what I need to do.”</p><p>Madara smiles, mouth wide, with too many teeth.</p><p>[AU where Madara is a demon and Sakura is pretty done with how shit her day has been, honestly. A porny little-bit-more-than-oneshot.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Madara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>157</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It has been over a decade since I last wrote fanfic, and everything I've wrote between then and now has been research papers and analyses, which tend to be a little dry. Figured I'd ease my way back in with an AU and some porn, because who doesn't like hot people fucking amirite?</p><p>No beta because I haven't really been around to use one, so if you see errors point 'em out and I'll fix.</p><p><b>Important note:</b> This is going to be a bit dub-conny because, I mean, Madara is a demon, but it won't be super traumatic dub-con if that makes sense. But still, avoid reading past chapter 1 if that's a no-go for you.</p><p>This should only be 2 or 3 chapters!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>What</em>, thinks Sakura, <em>the actual fuck.</em></p><p>She rounds a corner so fast that she skids and almost loses her footing, reaching out to brace on the wall and hissing when the rough concrete scrapes the skin from her palm. But there’s no time to stop, not with the jeering voices that echo down the hall behind her, too goddamn close. She still doesn’t know where she is, has been looking for something, anything, to give her some sort of bearing ever since she woke in this place with her head aching and limbs heavy.</p><p>Sakura doesn’t know who the people are that took her, or more importantly <em>why</em> they took her, although based on the whole kidnapping thing it’s safe to assume that their intentions aren’t to take her to a pleasant brunch. All she’s gathered so far in her desperate bid for freedom was that she is likely underground, in what feels (and smells) like an old government or military building. No windows, heavy concrete walls and floors, metal pipes running along the ceiling that clank and settle every few minutes and make her muscles tense with every new noise.</p><p>Too late she realizes that this particular hall is a dead end, with a single door at the end which she is rapidly approaching. The door looks to be made of heavy metal and more akin to something from a vault than an underground office space. Sakura knows that her pursuers are going to round the corner any second, and in the blinding rush of adrenaline that washes her brain she doesn’t notice the double half-circle, filled with runes, painted in red on the floor and mirrored on the ceiling right outside the doorway.</p><p>She takes a heaving breath and slows down, praying that it’s not locked because if it’s locked then this is actually the end, grabs the handle with her scraped and bleeding hand, and pulls open the heavy door just enough to slide her body into the room, immediately turning to yank it closed. The sound of locks engaging from <em>outside</em> was the last thing she expected to hear, and the cold fear she’d been trying to keep at bay starts to close a heavy fist in her chest once again.</p><p>Sakura takes a step back into the room, can hear the muffled voices filtering down the hall and through the heavy door.</p><p>“- went in there on her own –“</p><p>
“ – yeah but it doesn’t count unless <em>we</em> give her to him, idiot-“</p><p>
“ – not going in there to get her, who knows what we’ll walk into –“</p><p>
“Well, it didn’t go as planned,” says a high, feminine voice, right outside the door now. “But she <em>is</em> in the room and she has to count for something. We’ll just have to find another one to finish the binding.”</p><p>
There’s a pause then, and Sakura tries to quiet her shaking breathing as she listens, hoping for footsteps walking away, hoping they can’t get in, hoping she can get out –</p><p>
“Sorry about the delivery, Lord Madara!” the same woman yells, startling Sakura back another step. “We’ll leave you to it and bring you another, properly wrapped next time!” Several muted laughs accompany the announcement, and then they start to move away, voices and footsteps getting fainter and fainter, and Sakura feels the curl of fear in her belly grow.</p><p>
They weren’t talking to her. If they weren’t talking to her then –</p><p>
Sakura turns on her heel and takes two steps back to the door, needing the small sense of security the metal at her back gives her. The room she’s in isn’t much different from the rest of the building – concrete and metal and the musty smell of age and disuse – but it’s furnished, almost like a bedroom, and are those fucking <em>peach scented candles</em> on the table in front of her?</p><p>
A throat clears, alarmingly loud in the quiet.</p><p>
Her eyes immediately dart to the source of the sound and she can’t help the low strangled sound that escapes her.</p><p>
A man sits in the corner of the room, darkened by shadows – unnatural, not tied to the light and the objects of the room, but drawn in as if pulled by a hand. The shadows are too great for her to make out his face, but she knows <em>what</em> he is at just that one glance.</p><p>
Demon.</p><p>
His hair is black as ink and moves as if caught in a breeze despite the air in the room being still. It curls in smoke-like wisps around his shoulders and waist as she stares dumbly. The glow of red eyes raising up to meet hers makes her muscles tense, frozen for a moment, before she tears her own eyes away from him – certain demons are said to be able to entrap victims with a simple stare, and she’d rather not test out occult theories given the circumstances.</p><p>
And there’s a reason why it’s only theories that she’s been taught. Summoning demons, even low-level ones, has been forbidden for near two centuries. They haven’t been used since the Great War, when two God-Level demons were summoned and bound by General Tobirama, used to single-handedly decimate the Opposition. When it was all over, the demons had almost broken through the binding before they were banished, and all world leaders had agreed that even low-level summons were too dangerous and too unstable to risk using in the future. The magics of demon summons were destroyed or sealed away, and their legend existed now only in history textbooks.</p><p>
In history textbooks, and now in a locked room with her.</p><p>
Mind racing, Sakura tries to place the name she had heard, <em>Lord Madara</em>. If she can recognize it, remember the name from her studies, she might stand a chance.</p><p>
She can’t seem to look away from the man - <em>demon,</em> she reminds herself - who raises one eyebrow at (presumably) her continued silence, and then blandly asks, voice a low rumble, as he gestures to the chair beside him, “If you’re going to stand there bleeding, could you at least do so slightly closer so I might benefit?”</p><p>
Sakura’s mouth drops open, and before she can stop herself the words that had been racing through her mind since she woke tumbled out. “What the <em>actual fuck?</em>”</p><p>
The man’s eyebrow raises even higher - <em>it's going to walk right off his face at this rate,</em> she thinks – and this time he gives her a toothy grin, eyes narrowing and mouth pulling up into an expression that would look more natural on a wolf than a man. Sakura tries to take another step back, belatedly remembering the door she’s already plastered her back to. Seeing her movement, the man stands and begins to walk toward her, which is when her brain promptly starts screaming. Clearly he is taunting her, demons could move faster than sight can follow if the stories were true, but he just slowly draws closer, hair curling around him like he’s in a goddamn shampoo commercial and how is it moving when there is <em>no wind, holy shit</em>.</p><p>
Every thought in her head is incoherent rambling when he finally stops just a few feet in front of her and cocks his head to the side, the red of his eyes looks luminescent in the low light of the room, and Sakura could swear that his presence is larger than his body, like a physical weight pressing down on her.</p><p>
He opens his mouth - to speak again or to eat her, she’s not sure – and Sakura’s panic hits critical mass. Before she even fully realizes what she’s saying she blurts out, “I’m not a virgin!”</p><p>
This makes him raise both eyebrows in apparent surprise before the side of his mouth curves up in a smirk. “Felicitations?”</p><p>
“No!” Sakura yells, hands flapping in the air. “I mean, thank you. Wait, no, <em>no</em> thank you. I just-" Sakura trips over her words, cold prickling her skin. How is it even possible to be simultaneously terrified and mortified? She takes a shaking breath and tries again. “I mean you –" Can she call a demon a demon? Is that rude? “- your kind, I’ve heard you guys have, ah, particular tastes and I –"</p><p>
He laughs then, a quick bark like it was shocked out of him. “You can’t taste virginity, girl. It would be a restrictive diet, besides.”</p><p>
“O-oh.” And what else could really be said to that? Vaguely she feels her hands shaking where she has them held loosely in front of her, an instinctive bid to protect herself. The adrenaline that has carried her through her unsuccessful escape is running out, and the fatigue, stress, and unholy terror of her current situation is settling around her like a noose.</p><p>
Locked in a room, lord knows where, with a motherfucking demon.</p><p>
“Well, fuck,” Sakura breathes out, unable to tear her eyes away from his mouth where she can see the hint of a sharp canine - <em>oh god, she’s going to die</em> - “I suppose I wasn’t brought here for my winning personality and conversational skills, then.”</p><p>
That smirk grows into a grin and ice rolls down her spine, but he says nothing, does nothing, is still save for the tendrils of hair that continue to twist and writhe around his shoulders and waist. Suddenly it hits her, and she looks down at the double circle she’s standing in, the thick red lines filled with runes that arches around the entry to the room. She was literally standing inside the seal keeping him here – keeping him from her and her very <em>very</em> breakable body. He makes a darkly amused sound and she snaps her eyes back up, avoiding his gaze although she thinks the seal should (maybe?) protect her from the magics associated with his spinning red and black eyes.</p><p>
“It appears you’ve put the pieces together.” He dips his head towards the outermost line of the seal, the toes of his leather boots resting just outside. “Usually that group bring in their offerings,” he rolls the word in his mouth with a grimace, like it has an unpleasant taste, “with a bit more pomp and circumstance, but it appears that you had initiative that your predecessors were lacking.”</p><p>
Sakura laughs, or she tries to; it comes out a little too wounded to fool anyone. “I metabolize most drugs faster than average. Weird genetic quirk. I guess they weren’t banking on me waking up as early as I did.” She squeezes her eyes closed, takes a deep breath through her nose, and quietly asks, “Is there any way I get out of this alive?”</p><p>
The silence is oppressive, but she still can’t bring herself to open her eyes. A small, scared, tired part of her brain thinks that maybe, if she keeps her eyes closed long enough, she’ll wake up in her room at home and none of the last day will have happened. She hears the rustle of his clothing as he shifts, and instinctively her eyes fly open again – a mistake, she realizes, as she finds he has bent enough to be exactly eye level and she meets his glowing eyes directly.</p><p>
Turns out the seal does <em>not</em> protect against eye magics. She apparently still has enough control over her body and emotions that she starts hyperventilating when she feels the prickling warmth of the glamor wrap around her, deceptively comforting in the damp cold of the underground. She takes a step forward, muscles twitching as she fights with everything she has to hold her ground. It’s not enough, she knows it’s not enough, but Sakura will be damned if she goes out quietly. He forces another step and a ragged sound rips out of her, near to a growl, as she fights harder.</p><p>
“Fiesty, aren’t you?” he says, not bothering to hide his amusement.</p><p>
Sakura can’t tear her eyes away from him, can’t stop herself from taking another step forward, she’s one long stride away from crossing over the seal, away from her only protection. She reaches down inside herself, grabs hold of the desperation, the fear, the anger, the flicker of hope she still has for escape – she wraps it all around her like a shroud, pours her focus into regaining control of her arms, and in the second she feels the hold waver Sakura grabs her left pinky and breaks it with a sickening crack.</p><p>
The agony is immediate and overwhelming, her vision goes black with spots for a too-long moment. But most importantly, thanks to the pain, the glamor is broken. The instant it falls from around her she drops her eyes and throws herself back against the door again, crouched on the ground, taking heaving shaking breaths and cradling her injured hand to her chest protectively.</p><p>
“S-shit-“ she grits out, cold sweat beading along her hairline, nostrils flaring as she tries to swallow down the nausea that’s making her mouth fill with saliva.</p><p>
He actually starts clapping, a dark chuckle raising the hairs on her arms. “Spirited indeed. Commendable, girl, but foolish all the same. Why cause yourself more pain?”</p><p>
Sakura’s eyes burn with frustrated tears, which only fuels her anger because the last thing she wants to do in front of this monster is <em>cry</em>. “If I’m going to die here,” she forces out, hating how thick her voice sounds and blinking away the tears, “I’m not going to die as some mind-controlled husk, not even aware of my own death. My mind is my own. Always.”</p><p>
He makes a contemplative noise but she can’t see his expression, not willing to chance getting trapped by his eyes a second time. <em>I only have so many fingers, after all,</em> she thinks blithely, struggling to keep hysteria at bay.</p><p>
Abruptly, through the haze of pain and desperation, she remembers where she’s heard his name. If the being before her is really Madara, then she’s trapped with the Demon Lord of Fire and War, one of the two God-Level demons who fought in the Great War. Arguably one of the strongest creatures in existence, who destroyed hundreds of thousands of soldiers in just a few <em>days.</em></p><p>
So why the fuck was he sealed in the basement of an old government building?</p><p>
“If you’re really Madara,” she says, flicking her eyes up to settle on the lower half of his face before she loses her courage, “then how the hell are you trapped in this room?”</p><p>
“Ahhhh,” Madara smiles. It is not comforting. “So you know who I am then.”</p><p>
Sakura says nothing, just holds her throbbing hand, carefully keeping her eyes on the ground, and waits. Oddly, the long sigh that escapes Madara at her silence reminds her so much of one of her old teachers, long-suffering and oh so done with his student’s shit, that it makes her tense muscles relax a bit.</p><p>
“The seals on this room are surprisingly thorough,” Madara admits. “One of the casters is an Uzumaki – they’re quite adept at containment seals.” He holds his hands out to the side and shrugs. “Even I have no choice but to follow certain rules.” He pauses again, this time with an air of consideration. “You asked if there was a way to survive. If you can break the seals, I will spare your life and not take you as an offering.”</p><p>
Sakura’s head jerks up so quickly that she just barely remembers to avoid his gaze. It seems too good to be true, even if demons are bound by their word when making a deal. Then it hits her. “What happens when I set you free?”</p><p>
He laughs lowly, and the shadows start to thicken and pull towards him from the corners of the room. “I take my pound of flesh from those who dared try to bind me, of course.”</p><p>
Sakura can’t believe she’s considering this. She doesn’t want to die, but she can’t even fathom the consequences of unleashing Madara unbound on the world. There is no precedent for this, at least none that she knows of. To force him back to his own plane of existence without a binding seal…she doesn't know if it is even possible. The shadows are growing darker, Madara’s aura pressing in around her, heavy with suffocating heat, like she’s standing too close to a wildfire.</p><p>
She doesn’t know what the right decision is.</p><p>
But she knows she isn’t going to die in this basement, alone and in pain.</p><p>
“Alright,” she says. “Tell me what I need to do.”</p><p>
Madara smiles, mouth wide, with too many teeth.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sakura never imagined she’d think of unsealing a Demon Lord as “straight-forward” but here she is, and if Sakura is anything she’s adaptable. There is such a thing as too much, though. And honestly, she’s been teetering on the edge of too much since the moment she discovered a demon locked in a basement.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Unsealing the room should be straight-forward. Well, as much as is possible given the circumstances. Sakura never imagined she’d think of unsealing a Demon Lord as “straight-forward” but here she is, and if Sakura is anything she’s <em>adaptable</em>. There is such a thing as too much, though. And honestly, she’s been teetering on the edge of too much since the moment she discovered a demon locked in a basement. Looking away from her hands, the black and blue skin of her broken pinky, hot and swollen and bone deep aching, Sakura tries to focus on what the demon is doing.</p>
<p>Madara has been drawing the counter-seal in the center of the room for several minutes using his own blood, which sizzles and burns and pops as he deftly sketches each line with his fingers. It is a beautiful thing, objectively speaking. Concentric circles filled with swirling tomoe and symbols that <em>move </em>and flicker like fire. As he works, Madara goes over the process in detail, surprisingly and unnervingly patient for a demon older than written history.</p>
<p>“Seals and counterseals function largely on intent. To seal, the caster must <em>want</em> to bind. To unseal, the caster must <em>want </em>to release.” Madara explains, fingers swirling on the ground as blood drips down his palm, voice dark with focus. “To unseal one’s own work is easy. To cast a counterseal on someone else’s is more difficult and requires something <em>extra</em>.”</p>
<p>Sakura doesn’t like the way he stresses that last word.</p>
<p>“What do you mean ‘extra’?”</p>
<p>Madara tilts his head back slightly to look at where she sits, curled protectively around herself on the floor.</p>
<p>“It means that counterseals require both intent and sacrifice.” He holds up a hand at her outraged yell and she just barely manages to hold in her fury and terror and bite her tongue. “Sacrifice,” Madara continues, unbothered, “is not limited to death. Sacrifice at its core is a willing act of loss, giving something up to another. Giving up life and blood is the most obvious to you mortals, and often holds the most power, but one needs not die nor need they bleed for a successful sacrifice.”</p>
<p>He stands, apparently finished with laying down the circle, and strides swiftly to the bed in the corner, pulling the bedding off. He drops the bundle in the middle of the circle, nudging it with one foot to get it to flatten on the ground, and then turns to face her, his body held loosely in a near perfect projection of calm that Sakura wishes fooled her. She stares at the blankets piled in the middle of the counterseal, then back down at her hands; forces herself to ask what she’s dreading to know. What she already does know, on some level. “What exactly am I expected to sacrifice for this to work?”</p>
<p>“Without damaging you? The simplest option is for you to sacrifice your body to me - give me your surrender and your control.” His teeth flash, too sharp canines glinting as he draws his tongue against them thoughtfully; Sakura presses her hands harder against her thighs to stop the shaking, inordinately grateful for the grounding pain of her broken finger keeping her in the present. “There is potent power in pleasure, you see. Just as potent as pain. And the power of a body given willingly, especially given how much you <em>fear</em> and how tightly you cling to your control…” Madara trails off for a moment, eyes sliding closed, seemingly lost in thought. “Well, it will definitely get the job done.”</p>
<p>Sakura loses track of time for a bit, after that. Her mind races as she slowly comes to terms with the idea of willingly fucking a demon in exchange for her life and freedom. She tries to approach it all objectively. <em>Take the demon out of the equation, </em>she thinks. <em>Pretend you’re thinking about sleeping with a cute guy you met at a coffee shop.</em></p>
<p>While not big on one night stands (“You’re too picky,” her friends have always bemoaned), she’s not exactly a prude, and yes, Madara is undeniably attractive. Tall in a way she’s always liked, the kind of tall that makes her feel small and delicate. Broad-shouldered and heavily muscled, with a sharp jawline and harsh but handsome features. Even his too-sharp teeth, his blood-red eyes, his veritable mane of hair that moves with a will of its own – even these are beautiful, in the way deadly things often are.</p>
<p>But ultimately the issue isn’t his appearance, but what he <em>is. </em>As much as she tries, it’s impossible to pretend Madara is human. His presence feels too big for the room they’re in, pressing hot and heavy against her throat and the walls. Fooling her eyes into seeing just another man is one thing. Fooling her brain, her instincts, into believing that the fount of power that pours off him, shimmering like a heat mirage in the desert, is anything other than <em>dangerous – </em>well, she doesn’t know if that’s possible<em>. </em>She could be blind and deaf and she’d still know, would still be able to feel the danger wrapped around him like a cloak.</p>
<p><em>That’s</em> where she’s struggling. The fear is so overwhelming and instinctive, she feels it on a cellular level. Madara is powerful and dangerous and <em>other</em>. Just the thought of stripping herself bare before him, laying exposed and vulnerable, makes her throat and chest tighten with anxiety.</p>
<p>So, she has been standing just inside the inner edge of the seal for the last ten minutes, trying to psych herself up, to trick her brain into ignoring the survival instincts screaming at her <em>don’tfuckinggonearhim. </em>Because while she knows that she won’t be able to pretend Madara is anything other than what he is, knows that she’ll have to find a way through the fear to do this, knows that she’s willing to sacrifice her body and her control for her <em>life</em>…while she knows all this, it’s so fucking hard to make herself act on it.</p>
<p>She thinks back on the first time she ever went solo skydiving. Standing on the edge of nothingness, fingers clenched so tightly on the metal of the plane that they’d gone white, looking down down down with no one at her back to hold her, willing herself to step forward into the fall, fighting her instincts and reaching for the thrill she knows is hiding behind the fear instead.</p>
<p>Madara, once again, is surprisingly patient while she silently agonizes. She fights back a flare of agitation at his calm in contrast to her own frenetic state.</p>
<p>“I could glamor you if you’d like,” he drawls, leaning against the wall outside the seal, just inside her peripheral vision. “Make the fear fall away for a while.”</p>
<p>Sakura jerks her head to the side in a sharp no before he even finishes speaking. “Ah, no, thank you. Maybe you could just, uh,” she lets out a shaky exhale, counting down from five in her head for the tenth time. “Maybe you could move a little further away? Just for a few minutes?”</p>
<p>Madara chuckles lowly but does as she asks, coming to stop on the far side of the room, watching her with a look that raises goosebumps up and down her arms<em>.</em> Sakura takes a deep breath, offers up a prayer to anything and everything that might be willing to listen, and takes a hesitant step out of the seal and into the room, one foot in and one foot out. Every muscle in her body tenses at the same time, adrenaline hitting her so fast it makes her dizzy, but nothing happens. Clenching her hands into fists, she steps the rest of the way out of the seal.</p>
<p>Faster than she can blink she’s wrapped in shadows and then there’s darkness like she’s never known before and she’s <em>falling,</em> mouth open and screaming but there’s no sound here just darkness - and just as suddenly as it starts it stops, she’s back in the room and the light, looking at the door from the other side of the room.</p>
<p>Madara is at her back now, she realizes, and he’s burning with heat as he leans forward and buries his face in the side of her neck, one large hand sliding over her abdomen and pulling her back into his body. This close to him that feeling of heat and pressure and power is overwhelming, and she locks her knees to save herself the embarrassment of sliding to the floor. She can’t catch her breath, shaking so hard she feels like the ground itself must be vibrating beneath her feet. Sakura doesn’t realize she’s crying until Madara’s free hand reaches up and he lightly draws his fingers through the tears on her cheek.</p>
<p>“Shhhhhh,” he breathes against her neck. “Hush now. The deal still stands, girl. I will not damage you, but you cannot deny me a moment of avarice, given my nature.” He smiles and she can feel his <em>teeth </em>against her skin, the heat of his breath on her throat almost enough to burn. She feels dizzy, dark spots flashing in her eyes, and she dimly realizes she’s not getting enough air, breath hitching and too fast in her terror. Madara apparently notices too, and he drags his hand away from her face and down the side of her body in what she assumes is meant to be a soothing motion. Down and then up and then down again, a firm pressure, and she can feel the heat of his skin like a brand through her thin tshirt…and shockingly it seems to be working. She forces one  full painful breath, fighting the spasm in her throat, her diaphragm tensing under Madara’s other hand, and then draws in another and another.</p>
<p>He’s <em>gentling </em>her, she realizes, focusing on the hand still stroking her side.</p>
<p>If she wasn’t practically numb with terror she would probably be angry.</p>
<p>As her breathing evens out, still fast with fear but no longer hyperventilation, Madara wraps his hand around hers and Sakura flinches hard and can’t help a soft cry of pain when her broken pinky flares with agony at the pressure. She squeezes her eyes shut in preparation for the worst.</p>
<p>“Tell me your name, girl,” Madara croons, words curling hotly in her ear. The hand wrapped around her own feels oddly cool now, a strange contrast to the brand of his body pressing against her back, and she sees a hint of green light even through her closed eyes.</p>
<p>“Sakura H-Haruno,” she forces out, jaw clenched so hard she’s worried she might break something. She hates herself for how she stumbles over her own name.</p>
<p>“Fitting, given the hair,” he muses, and the cold of his hand starts to fade away. Abruptly, Sakura realizes that she’s no longer in pain. The sharp ache of her broken finger, the burn of the scrape on her palm, they’ve vanished like they never were. Taking a chance, she opens her eyes and glances down at where he still holds her hand with his own, looks over the unblemished skin of her palm, the lack of bruising around her pinky. He…healed her? A dark chuckle brings her back to the moment and she shivers as Madara starts to rub firm, smooth circles on her tense abdomen with his other hand.</p>
<p>“As I said, Sa-ku-ra,” Madara purrs, voice a low rumble that she can feel through her back and chest. “There is power in pain, but today our aim is pleasure. I swore that you will come out of this undamaged. And I’d prefer you not be distracted by anything other than myself.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Sakura says after a moment, swallowing audibly, her mouth dry. She tries to relax her muscles to quell the full-body shaking that is making her arms tremble, but it only seems to increase so she takes a deep breath and swallows again, taking a moment to find her voice. “Your offer. From before. To t-take away the fear,” Sakura clenches her free hand into a fist briefly before she lets it relax again and breathes through her nose to the count of five. “Is it still on the table?”</p>
<p>Madara makes a soft “hmmm” sound against her neck and starts to pull back, grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her towards him.</p>
<p>“I cannot take it all, you must still be in control of your faculties for this to work, but I can push it back for a while.” She feels his hand come up under her chin, tilting her head back, and clenches her eyes shut on instinct. “You have to look at me though,” he says with amusement.</p>
<p>Sakura takes another shaky breath, counts to ten, and then slowly opens one eye. The blurry shape of his mouth and nose comes into focus. She opens the other, nerves fluttering and twisting low in her belly – she ignores the very reasonable part of her that yells at her to <em>not look in his eyes again, stupid </em>– and raises her eyes to meet his gaze.</p>
<p>Up close like this she realizes his eyes are beautiful and terrible, burning bright like embers flicked from a fire, three black tomoe spinning slowly around a wide black pupil. The warm wrap of glamor falls over her, but unlike before the sensation is light, like a whisper of warm silk against her skin; present but not suffocating or restrictive. The terror that has kept her muscles tense and her limbs locked starts to fade, and she can’t help the soft sigh that escapes her at the simple relief of laxity. There’s something else though, rising up even as the fear slides down. Pressure and slow heat turns low, and she presses a hand between her thighs with a moan before she even realizes what she’s doing.</p>
<p>“This,” Sakura pants, gaze still locked on Madara’s, watching as the corners of his beautiful, horrifying eyes crinkle upwards as he smiles. She presses the heel of her palm firmer against herself and her hips jolt at the sensation. “This was not part of the deal.”</p>
<p>“Demon,” Madara says slowly, pointing to himself with a sharp smile. “Just a little boost to help things along.” His eyes flicker down to where her hand is pressed between her legs and the smile widens, his expression smug and teeth glinting. “I didn’t even have to suggest that much for the desired result.”</p>
<p>Sakura allows herself a breathy laugh, and tries to ignore how just the feeling of her shirt brushing against her nipples is enough to make them tighten and tingle with pleasure. Her fear hasn’t deserted her, still lays coiled like a snake at the base of her skull, raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck. But it’s not enough to stop her as she raises her hand, only trembling slightly now, to wrap around his forearm, all heat and dense muscle under smooth skin. “Well then. I suppose we better get started before I lose my nerve.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This might have run away with me a little bit, so I was kind of forced to end this chapter before we got to the good stuff to keep it a reasonable length. So, sex will be in Chapter 3 now because apparently I had to ramble on about seals and shit. It's about halfway written so the wait shouldn't be too long!</p>
<p>Oh, and just to make sure it's clear - no one in this fic is underage. I don't explicitly state how old Sakura is, but I imagine her to be in her twenties.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Theme song for this fic<br/>Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge<br/><i>I want to hold you close<br/>Skin pressed against me tight<br/>Lie still, and close your eyes girl<br/>So lovely it feels so right<br/>I want to hold you close<br/>Soft breasts, beating heart<br/>As I whisper in your ear<br/>I want to fucking tear you apart</i></p></blockquote></div></div>
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